


show me where the light is

by brioche



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure tri.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, tri's plot is a dumpster fire but i......tri-ed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 18:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15055370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brioche/pseuds/brioche
Summary: After failing to prevent the reboot of the real world, Yamato comes to terms with everything crumbling around him.Canon divergence of Bokura no Mirai.





	show me where the light is

00:00

REBOOT COMPLETE

The white words materialize on Koushirou’s laptop screen like a death sentence, and the red glow beneath the grave text bathes Yamato’s pale face in a bloody light. It feels like time has rooted still as the realization sinks in. They’ve failed. _He’s_ failed – not only as a leader for the other Chosen Children in Taichi’s absence, but the entire planet that depended on them to prevent the reboot of the real world.

Yet even while Ordinemon shrieks with a force to shatter the windows of the surrounding skyscrapers as she’s reduced back into decomposing data, Yamato can’t hear a single thing – not the ocean waves crashing against the beach at his feet, and not the wailing sirens echoing in the chaotic distance. He can’t breathe, can’t even feel his own heart beating in his chest, can only stare wide-eyed at the message on Koushirou’s screen like it’s his own gravestone, but just as quickly as it flashed on, it disappears. Not only Koushirou’s laptop, but the entire city of Odaiba falls dark within seconds. The streetlights succumb into shadows, the Rainbow Bridge dims, and the Fuji TV Building blacks out. Cars slow to a halt, the Tokyo Metro’s cars freeze on the Yamanote Line’s tracks, and a helicopter in the distance stalls in the middle of the sky. The real world is being rebooted in front of his eyes, and it’s his fault. _We’ll save the world in our own way_ , he’d declared, but it was just an empty promise.

Mimi screams in the sudden darkness while Koushirou types at his unresponsive keyboard in disbelief. “This is impossible,” he mumbles to himself, and as the moments tick by, the dull clicking of the keys grows louder and louder until he’s practically slamming his fingers against them. “No, an instantaneous shut down of technology on such a large scale is inconceivable. It’ll be a worldwide catastrophic disaster the likes of which humankind has never anticipated dealing with before. The planet will be thrown into a state of panic–”

“Holyangemon!” Takeru cries out, momentarily breaking Yamato free from his catatonic state, and he looks up to the sky to see Holyangemon descending to the ground, his limbs slowly disintegrating into trails of light that illuminate the darkness shrouding the entire city and potentially the entire world. It must have already been an ordeal for Takeru to confront Devimon on his way over to the beach, let alone now have to lose his partner again, but it’s not only Holyangemon. Sora rushes towards Birdramon, already regressed back to Piyomon as she tumbles to the ground in a string of crumbling data, and Mimi sobs, kneeling on the dirty sand as she clutches Palmon’s fraying hand. It breaks Yamato’s heart to see Agumon standing there on the beach alone, staring at them in confusion, as he disappears without being granted a chance to say goodbye to the same idiot that didn’t give Yamato a chance to say goodbye either.

“Taichi… where are you?” Agumon calls out, and Yamato has been wondering the exact same thing for hours. Taichi picked the worst time to play hero. Yamato wishes he was the one who vanished instead back in the Digital World.

When he catches a glimpse of Gabumon in the distance, still floating in the middle of the sea with Gomamon, Yamato’s muscles suddenly remember how to move. “Gabumon!” he exclaims, nearly knocking over Koushirou and his laptop as he staggers across the beach towards the roaring waves. His voice cracks as he screams his partner’s name again, an echoing plea. Throughout the past six years, they’ve been forced to part ways far too many times, and he can’t bear to go through with it again. Especially not so soon since the first reboot erased all of Gabumon’s memories – not to mention since he lost his other best friend today as well. The violent surge of water chills Yamato to the core and nearly knocks the breath from his lungs when he launches himself into it, but before he can claw his way through the ocean to say goodbye to his cherished partner, he’s yanked backwards by arms that latch around his stomach.

“Yamato,” Jou blurts, clinging to him to keep him from flinging himself into the ocean, and Yamato grits his teeth, hating how his emotions are draining himself from being able to fight away from Jou’s grasp. “The waves are too strong. You’ll drown if you try to go out there!”

“Let me go!” Yamato screams regardless, elbowing Jou in the gut as he blinks the tears from his eyes and struggles to wrestle free. “Gabumon needs me!”

“Didn’t you just hear me!? I said you’ll drown! You think I don’t want to go out there for Gomamon? Of course I do, but we’d get swept away!”

Yamato chokes on his breathing, reaching out towards Gabumon, his fingertips much too far to grab ahold of those hands that have saved him from himself more times than he can count. _I’ll always be by your side_ , he proclaimed with that signature, loyal smile mere hours ago as he reeled Yamato back in from his ever encompassing sea of doubt, but now as Gabumon floats there in the middle of the ocean, barely able to hold his eyes open as he fades away into the darkness, Yamato can’t even do the same for him. And he hates himself for it.

“Gabumon!” Yamato yells one last time in desperation, and Gabumon feebly lifts his head, soft gaze meeting Yamato’s stricken eyes. The gentle smile that he offers wrenches Yamato’s heart in his chest. It’s a wordless goodbye that finally coaxes the tears free from Yamato’s eyes, and as they slip down his cheeks, his strength leaves his body. Jou doesn’t even need to bother holding him back anymore as he crumples to the ground, fingers digging into the sand while he watches Gabumon disappear before his eyes. He wishes the beach would give way beneath him and swallow him whole and take him anywhere but here, watching his partner get ripped away from him.

“…It’ll be alright,” Jou whispers as Yamato remains there, motionless. He wants to scream at Jou for claiming it – how the hell could things be _alright_ after he let this happen – but restrains himself. He couldn’t get up anyways even if he tried. “Koushirou said their memories would be okay this time, remember? Because of the backup field. So it’ll be fine.”

Something twists in Yamato’s gut like a knife driving into him as the last remnants of Gabumon’s data fade away into the night, and he can’t bring himself to move – how is he supposed to when another piece of him has been stolen? “Somehow…” he begins, feeling like an ant with the entire weight of the world on his back as he stares off into the darkness. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

 

\---

 

They split up afterwards. Koushirou seeks some place that will accept his help in recovering from the technological meltdown – to Odaiba’s power plant, the Incorporated Administrative Agency, the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building. Mimi, Sora, Jou, and Meiko rush to find their families, whether at their homes or at one of the many shelters that offered previous asylum for those fleeing from Ordinemon’s rampage and now for those lost and stranded in the night. “Keep in touch,” Sora says on reflex before they part, biting her lower lip after as her hand lingers on her cell phone tucked in her back pocket, reduced to a pretty paperweight.

“I’ll send a carrier pigeon,” Takeru jokes with a faint smile in an attempt to lighten the situation, and everyone forces a laugh – everyone except Yamato.

Sora offers a short wave as she backs away from the trio lingering on the beach. “Stay safe on your ways home, you guys.”

“You, too,” Hikari replies, and it’s not until a few seconds after she and Takeru are already walking along the shore that Yamato notices them leaving. He trails after them in silence, hands in his pockets, one gripping his dead phone and the other clenched around his Digivice, equally unresponsive after the reboot extinguished its light. It feels like a jagged fragment of ice, biting at his trembling fingers and burning into his skin as the memories of their recent battle with Ordinemon replay over and over in his mind. He struggles to pinpoint the exact time when he allowed everything to go wrong, but after scrutinizing deliberation, he determines that he fucked up from the very start. From the moment he lost Taichi to that chasm in the Digital World, there was never any hope. _You’re the only one who could replace Taichi_ , Gabumon had said, like there was no greater truth in the world. Yamato trusted his partner so much that he actually _believed_ it, but look at the mess that was created – the mess that _he_ created. The world was still crumbling, just rooted in a different cause than before, and it was his fault for being such a worthless excuse of a leader.

“Yamato!”

He glances up at Takeru beckoning him to join them over at a metal, cylindrical container washed up on the side of the beach. Hikari is already kneeled at its side by the time Yamato arrives, twisting desperately at the door’s handle, and if he had the energy to be concerned he would tell them that this is a dangerous idea because who knows what’s inside that thing. “Yamato,” Takeru repeats, a sparkle in his eyes for the first time since this whole disastrous day began. “It’s Taichi,” he concludes, and just like that Yamato feels reality slam into him like a speeding car. Before he can even stumble forward to peer through the door’s window, Hikari has managed to wrench the handle free, and after she and Takeru fling the door open she crawls into the opening and collapses onto her brother’s chest with a sob.

“Taichi!” Hikari repeats over and over as she hugs him close, and Taichi comes to with the passing seconds and shakes his head, groaning weakly. “Taichi, oh, Taichi, I-I thought we had lost you. Oh my god, Taichi…” She’s echoing Yamato’s very thoughts as he stands there in a stupor, staring down at Taichi’s groggy face that he never thought he’d see again. He has no idea what Taichi is doing in this container or what the fuck he was doing while the rest of them were struggling to save the world, but whereas Hikari is opting for a tearful reunion, a different feeling is welling up inside Yamato’s chest as he clenches his fists so hard that his hands start to shake. “Taichi,” Hikari sobs one last time before she draws herself back to rub at her tears with her fingers, and Yamato grits his teeth, collapsing to his knees beside her as he fists his hands into the front of Taichi’s shirt and tugs his upper body up like a ragdoll.

“What the fuck, Taichi!?” Yamato screams, and if Taichi wasn’t awake before he’s bound to be by now considering how hard Yamato is shaking him. Takeru grabs onto his shoulder in protest of the rough treatment, but he shrugs the hand off with a single, jerky movement – if only he could just as easily rid his chest of the dull aching closing around his heart. Taichi tries to push him away with a confused grunt, but his strength still hasn’t returned to his limbs. He actually sounds scared, maybe even like he’s crying, and the feeling is mutual. Yamato doesn’t let go despite Hikari’s screams, yanking Taichi so close that their foreheads nearly crash into one another’s, and it’s so hard to vocalize the words lodged deep in his throat that it feels like they’re strangling him. “Where were you!?” he yells, voice trembling, and gulps down a bitter, acidic taste that churns in his stomach. “What were you doing!? We thought you were dead! I…”

_I felt lost_ , Yamato finishes in his mind as he stares into Taichi’s eyes, searching them desperately for a glimpse of that familiar warmth that keeps him grounded and feels like home, and when he finds it veiled beneath Taichi’s shock of his best friend greeting him with such unwarranted abuse, it feels like the skies have begun to clear even though Yamato knows he doesn’t deserve it. _I’ve never been so scared in my life as when I watched you slip from my grasp_ , he wants to say, but can’t, just like all the other thoughts swirling in his head. _I’m not cut out for being a leader like you. I didn’t know what to do without you by my side._

_I needed you._

“Yamato, stop!” Takeru exclaims, finally managing to wrestle him free from Taichi, and Yamato crashes back against the sand. “How is you yelling at him gonna help anything!?” He’s right. If anything, Yamato feels even worse. As Takeru and Hikari help a dazed Taichi out of the capsule and ask him what happened, Yamato lays there against the beach, motionless as he stares up at the sky dotted with stars. He wishes he could go to one, and never come back.

 

\---

 

“Open the gate.”

The man, supposedly one of Nishijima’s coworkers, frowns at Yamato upon hearing the request. Yamato was directed to speak with him upon arriving at the front desk of the Incorporated Administrative Agency instead of heading home as he had originally planned, but it seems like this man will be nowhere near as helpful as their late teacher or the conspicuously absent Himekawa. Maybe Yamato should have just returned home like the other three, but that’s not where he wants to be right now. “The gate to the Digital World,” Yamato clarifies, folding his arms as he leans forward against the man’s desk with a glare in an attempt to appear imposing, but the man isn’t having any of it.

“You may be one of the Chosen Children, but we can’t open the gate. Even if we had the capability to do so without the current absence of technology, it’s too dangerous. You can’t expect us to open it whenever someone asks.”

“I’m not just _someone_ ,” Yamato protests, slamming his hands onto the desk, curling them into fists as he remembers Gabumon’s words from earlier in the night. _If you’re in trouble, ask your partner Digimon for advice_ , he had said with that bashful smile, and Yamato would love to, if only he could. “My partner is waiting for me in the Digital World,” he chokes out through his grimace, “now let me see him.”

“…It’s best if we humans have nothing to do with Digimon again,” the man replies, and just as quickly as their conversation began, it ends with Yamato forcibly removed from the building and left alone on the dark street, long abandoned with the city’s population having fled for shelter. He makes his way back to his father’s apartment, where there will be no one waiting for him, where he will spend the rest of the night with only his pervasive, loathsome thoughts to keep him company. He’s so numb to everything around him that he barely even reacts to the sound of a familiar voice calling to him from a nearby alleyway, and when he glances over he can’t comprehend how Hackmon can be standing there in the shadows.

“…Why are you here?” Yamato demands, staring back into those eyes glinting beneath the red hood, wrapped around his head like a foreboding blanket of blood. “How are you here? All the other Digimon are gone.”

“As the messenger of Homeostasis, I am free to travel between our world and yours,” Hackmon answers. “You are the fourth Chosen Child I have come to meet with to convey these words. Or should I say, former Chosen Child.”

“What?” Yamato blurts with a frown at the addendum, thrown in so casually. “What are you talking about?”

“Homeostasis has rejected you,” Hackmon proclaims, and the words make the hairs on the back of Yamato’s neck stand on end. “After your failure to contain Libra, you have been deemed unworthy of being chosen. This judgment will leave you incapable of ever reentering the Digital World. You will be rejected if you try.”

“What!?” Yamato repeats, and even though he wants to run up to Hackmon and respond in kind with his fists, he recoils with a step back, troubled gaze falling to the ground as he shakes his head. “No… there’s no way we’ll never be able to go back. We have to see them again. I have to see Gabumon. He needs me!”

“He does not,” Hackmon states, cruel words cutting straight into Yamato’s chest and flipping a switch that draws Yamato’s furious glare back up. “He does not remember a thing about you after the reboot, and that is how it will remain. For you, and for all the other children as well.”

“Just who do you think we are?” Yamato demands, so angry that he can’t see straight and has to squeeze his eyes shut. “Just some pawns for you to choose if you want to use or throw away?! Gabumon is my partner! He means everything to me. We’ve been through so much together through all of these years, and you’re wrong if you think you can just erase all of it so easily.”

“It was not my decision to make. It is unfortunate that it brings you this much pain. However, Yamato Ishida, the one who is wrong here is you.”

Yamato’s eyes snap back open, and he rushes forward with a scream as Hackmon disappears without another word. His hands and knees collide against the cement after he trips and falls, hearing Hackmon’s terse words echoing in his head. He stares blankly at the ground, the pain from the cuts and scrapes in his palms the only thing tying his consciousness to the present as he contemplates lying down right here and never getting up again, but he forces himself back to his feet and reaches his hand into his pocket, pulling out his Digivice to cradle it in his fingers. Instead of giving him strength, the sight of it leaves him feeling empty. It’s never looked so fragile before, like dropping it will shatter it into a million pieces like the current state of his heart, and as he gazes into its blank screen, he can’t even see his own reflection staring back.

 

\---

 

As expected, Yamato’s father isn’t there when he returns home. _Utter chaos at the station_ , the post-it note left on the refrigerator reads in nearly illegible chicken scratch. _Be home when I get a chance_. _Love you. Stay safe_. Yamato rips it off with a frustrated grunt, crumpling it into a ball before flinging it towards the trash, not caring when he misses. He pulls the fridge open – the light is dead, and a warm draft wafts from the shelves of spoiling food – and after he slams it shut, he drags himself to the living room. He isn’t hungry anyways.

Yamato slides open the door to his apartment’s balcony, marching straight up to the railing with a heated glare as he holds his silent Digivice up towards the sky, bleeding a million colors as the sun finally rises beyond the horizon. “Hey!” he yells, and as expected, there is no answer. Even if he was still a Chosen Child, he doesn’t think he would receive an answer, because the holier-than-thou ruler of the Digital World clearly doesn’t give a shit about them anyways. “You’d better let me in!” he continues, hating how it sounds more like a desperate plea than the empty threat that it is. “I know you’re listening! You think you can just fuck up our world and take away our Digimon and that we’re gonna be okay with it!? Because we’re not!” The silent response makes Yamato clench his hand around his Digivice, its sharp corners digging into his skin as his fingertips grow pale from the pressure, and after he stomps back inside and slides the door closed with a crash he takes one last look at its empty screen before hurling it straight towards the wall. It leaves a dent in the plaster before clattering to the floor, and Yamato doesn’t bother watching to see where it falls.

After he retreats to his room, Yamato loses track of how long he lies in his bed. His harmonica is sitting on his desk, but he can’t even bring himself to touch it, his most prized possession which has always brought him the most comfort. He doesn’t sleep, and he doesn’t move. He lies there, simply breathing, with his head sandwiched between his pillow and the mattress, as yesterday’s events replay over and over in his brain like a horror film. Taichi being swallowed through the cracks in the ground after saving his life. Ordinemon laying waste to the city he calls his home before his eyes. Their Digimon failing to so much as scratch their opponent, draining him of every last drop of hope. Dooming the planet because he froze up at the worst possible moment in his indecision and fear. The real world reboot tearing away everything precious from him yet again. Lashing out at Taichi before his disappearance and then screaming at him just as much during their reunion. It’s a wonder nobody blames him, but he’s sure they do inside. He really can’t do anything right, so what’s the point in getting out of bed again.

The time passes by – just how much, he is unsure – until a gentle knocking in the distance leaves him furrowing his brow. Someone is at the door outside, and if his father forgot his key and was locked out, he would be pounding against it _much_ harder. Yamato squeezes his eyes shut and rolls over, not bothering to answer, but the sound doesn’t stop. He subconsciously begins to count how many times the knuckles rap against the door – single digits growing to double and finally to triple – and he finally can’t take it anymore. He peels his pillow from the top of his head and notices that the sunlight streaming through his bedroom window is long gone. The entire day has already passed him by, but it feels like it’s been a week. He crawls out of his bed, staggering cautiously towards the door as the knocking continues, but when he hears the familiar voice calling out to him from the other side, he freezes.

“Yamato,” Taichi says between knocks, and Yamato pulls his hand back from the doorknob. “I know you’re in there. I’ll repeat it as many times as I need to. Before we split up last night, Takeru told me to come check in on you today, and I’m not going anywhere ‘til you open up.”

The last sentence sets Yamato off, and he grinds his teeth together with a glare that could pierce straight through the door. “Yeah, well _I_ didn’t ask you to come over, so leave me the fuck alone,” he snaps, but Taichi doesn’t stop knocking.

“Open the door, Yamato.”

“I said no. Go away.”

“Nope. _I_ said I’m not going anywhere, so I’m not budging ‘til you let me in.”

Yamato grabs the door’s handle and throws it open, but before Taichi can say anything else or even react, Yamato has already stepped out and shoved him, sending him stumbling back against the railing. If their Digimon were here, they would surely intervene, but they’re not, and never will be again. Taichi regains his footing easily, staring back with calm eyes that Yamato sincerely envies, and he approaches Taichi with his hands clenched at his sides – he can almost feel Gabumon grabbing onto his leg, trying to hold him back. To Yamato, it seems like months have passed since he caused the reboot, but Taichi looks the same – collected, pensive even as he scans Yamato’s face, and Yamato wonders just when _he_ turned into the hot-headed one that _Taichi_ had to reason with. Taichi has grown up, but he still feels like the same useless kid dragging his feet, lost alone in the Digital World.

“What is your problem!?” Yamato screams, not even realizing he’s been crying until he feels the teardrops already slipping down the ridge of his jaw, and Taichi doesn’t interject. What gives him the right to look at such peace with himself when Yamato feels like he’s breaking apart? It’s not fair. “Fuck, Taichi, I told you to leave me alone! I’m not some stupid kid who needs to be babysat, and definitely not by you, so just fucking go away.”

“…I think you _do_ need me,” Taichi asserts, watching him cautiously, and Yamato’s attempt to swallow his rage to rid himself of it doesn’t work. Nothing is making him angrier than the unabashed concern pooled in Taichi’s eyes, because Yamato doesn’t need them to know that something is wrong. He already knows he did everything wrong.

“No. I don’t,” he hisses through his teeth, even though deep inside he wants to say _yes, I do_. He needed Taichi back when he disappeared, he needs Taichi now, and he knows he’ll need Taichi in the future, but the words won’t come out. “And if you don’t get out of here, right now, I’m gonna make you.”

“Yamato, just calm down,” Taichi repeats at a whisper, hands held cautiously between them, and Yamato swats them away as he grabs the front of Taichi’s shirt, ready to push him straight to the floor. He hates the way that his name rolls off Taichi’s tongue with tender care. Hearing it twists the blade deeper into his gut. “Yamato, don’t–”

“You can’t tell me what to do, Taichi!” he exclaims, spitting words like venom onto Taichi’s face that he doesn’t even mean. “You’ve always been an inconsiderate asshole ever since we were kids,” he cries out as the tears fall down his cheeks, and at this point he knows he’s not even describing Taichi anymore. The one he’s really angry with is himself, and he wishes Taichi would yell at him too so he wouldn’t have to do it all himself. “You’re so fucking stubborn and never listen! Everything you do pisses me off, and I wish that you hadn’t come back so I wouldn’t have had to see your shitty face agai–”

Taichi’s fist slams into Yamato’s cheek, sending him flying back against the doorframe, and as he lays there limply, clutching his throbbing face, he can’t tell what’s worse between the ringing in his ear and the sharp ache blooming in his jaw. “Taichi, what the fuck!” he yells as everything spins around him, but before he can regain his footing and punch Taichi back, he’s enveloped by a soothing warmth, squeezing him tightly and melting the pain away. The tears welling up in Yamato’s eyes fade and his racing heart slows as Taichi hugs him in silence, one hand clenched into the back of Yamato’s shirt as the fingers of his other curl around the back of Yamato’s head. Taichi’s delicate breaths brush against Yamato’s ear as his head rests peacefully against Taichi’s shoulder, and for a moment, everything is so perfect that Yamato forgets he was ever in any anguish at all.

“…I needed that,” he murmurs, his own fingers shaking as they tug at Taichi’s shirt in a weak attempt to return the hug, and he closes his eyes with a sigh so he can just cherish this right now.

“I know,” Taichi replies. “Good thing one punch was enough to knock you outta it, ‘cause I didn’t wanna have to do it again.”

Yamato doesn’t have it in him to make a snarky comeback. He’s pretty sure he would topple over right now if Taichi wasn’t still holding onto him because he’s utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally after being held in solitary confinement by his own thoughts. “Taichi… I’m a fucking wreck.”

Taichi neither affirms nor denies it. His arms fall slack around Yamato as he steps back, and Yamato wants to reach out and pull him close because he’s not ready for his sanctuary to crumble around him yet. “Let’s head inside,” Taichi says, nodding his head towards the still open door of Yamato’s apartment as he wraps an arm around Yamato’s shoulders, and Yamato nods, letting Taichi guide him in while he rubs at the bruise blossoming across his aching cheek. At least Taichi had the foresight not to give him a black eye. “Didn’t get any sleep, huh?” Taichi asks, closing the door behind them, and Yamato glances over at him. It’s hard to see in the darkness, but Yamato doesn’t need a light to know that Taichi looks worried.

“How do you know?”

“Your eyes are bloodshot, like you dunked them in red food coloring. I dunno how you’re keeping them open right now. You look like you’re gonna pass out before we make it to your room.”

“That where you’re dragging me? Gonna tuck me in? Tell me a bedtime story?”

“Well, if you really want me to.”

“Yeah,” Yamato replies, not joking anymore, because Taichi’s voice is a sweet medicine to him right now, and he doesn’t want to drift off to sleep to the sound of anything else.

“Okay,” Taichi agrees immediately without questioning it, and Yamato can’t help but to snort at the absurdity. “Any kinda story you want in particular, princess?”

“Something happy,” Yamato mumbles, not even realizing they’ve reached his bed until Taichi is already nudging him towards it. It doesn’t look very inviting – more like a prison he had just escaped – but Taichi won’t have any of it until he’s lying down, too tired to even crawl beneath his blanket as he buries his face into his pillow.

“Alright,” Taichi begins, sitting down on the side of the bed, and Yamato stops his restless fidgeting at the feeling of Taichi’s hand resting on top of his, threading their fingers together. “So there were these two kids, right? And– Oh, oops, I mean… _Once upon a time_ , there were these two kids. The first one, he’s like this super hot-headed idiot. Really loud and obnoxious. I dunno how his friends put up with him, but they did, and he somehow wound up becoming the group’s leader after they got thrown into another world. And the other kid, he’s a sensitive loner who acts like he doesn’t care but does – and way too much – about everyone, other than himself. The others think he’s really cool, even the first kid, but he definitely doesn’t wanna admit it. And these two, they butted heads. They butted heads _a lot_.”

“Maybe it’s because the first kid was a doofus who couldn’t get his priorities straight,” Yamato grumbles, and Taichi laughs.

“Yeah, he made some dumb mistakes. He fucked up a lot and ruined tons of things. But that’s how you grow up. He learned not to take it so hard when things didn’t go how he planned. He learned that he couldn’t do everything by himself. He learned that he wasn’t invincible, and as his adventure continued, he learned that the other kid that he fought with so often was the most incredible person he’d ever meet in his life.”

“Shut up,” Yamato murmurs on reflex, rubbing his face into his pillow. Even though his cheek stings, it feels comforting, a little like Garurumon’s fur, but the realization brings back memories that make his stomach clench.

“It’s true. And he knows the other kid feels the same way about him, too.”

“No, the other kid thinks you’re still a doofus.”

“Yeah, sure. Anyways, it never goes perfectly, but they save the world, a bunch of times. Except for the one time that they don’t. But in the end, it all turns out okay anyways, because they’re still alive, together, breathing. It’s alright that they failed, it really is, because they did the best they could do, and life goes on.”

Yamato frowns. “…That’s what sucks, Taichi. I _did_ do my best, but it wasn’t enough.”

“Yeah, it was. Imagine if you hadn’t done your best. We might all be _dead_ , including Agumon and the other Digimon, but we’re not. And they’re still okay, too, even if they did get reborn in the Digital World again and we can’t go to see them. What happened wasn’t your fault. Whatever you did, it was fine, Yamato, so stop beating yourself up over it. You’re the only person I’d ever entrust my life with out there, and I’d do it over and over again.”

“Well, I hope you never have to again,” Yamato quips with a yawn, the warmth of Taichi’s skin still lingering on his the last feeling he remembers as he begins to drift off. “Can’t guarantee I wouldn’t get us killed next time.”

Taichi chuckles, squeezing Yamato’s hand. “I’d take my chances if I’m with you.”

 

\---

 

When Yamato wakes up in the middle of the night, Taichi is still holding onto his hand, legs sprawled out on the bed as he lays beside Yamato and snores. The sound isn’t what woke Yamato up, though. He’s still plenty tired, but he’d rather not try to go back to sleep right now, because the dream he was just saved from might start to replay, and he doesn’t want to watch helplessly as all of his friends die around him, again.

He glances at Taichi, passed out like a rock with his other hand curled up the bottom of his shirt, scratching at his stomach. He looks peaceful at first, but Yamato notices his eyebrows furling as he stirs in his sleep and wonders exactly for whose sake Taichi is still clinging onto his hand. Yamato heard Taichi talking about it to Hikari and Takeru after they helped him out of the capsule that had washed up on the shore – Nishijima sacrificed himself in order to save Taichi’s life, not only when he shielded Taichi’s body as they fell through the crevasse into the underground lab, but also when he baited Taichi into the last remaining escape pod that launched him back to the real world. Knowing Taichi, he’s still not over that, but he’s here anyways, all smiles and comforting warmth like he didn’t just watch someone die, even if it may sometimes just be a carefully fabricated farce because he’s hurting inside, too. Yamato wonders what’s worse – dooming an entire world full of unfamiliar faces or indirectly killing someone close to you – but a slam from outside of his bedroom jolts him from his thoughts.

“Yamato?” his father calls out, and he sits up immediately, tugging his hand free from Taichi’s before he climbs off his bed. The last thing he needs right now is for his dad to walk in and see him sleeping with his best friend because he’ll definitely get the wrong idea – not to mention he also might flip out at Taichi.

“Hey, dad,” Yamato says after sliding through the crack in his bedroom door, and it closes behind him with a soft click. He’s surprised his father is here but appreciates that he actually came home. “You’re back late. Actually, I dunno what time it is because, you know. Clocks are all dead.”

His father is standing in the kitchen, face lit in the faint flickering of his lighter’s flame, and he turns at the sound of Yamato’s voice. “Yamato! Good, you’re okay.” Yamato almost interrupts with a bitter laugh because that’s not true at all but manages to hold it in. “The power is out in the entire city. Nothing is working at all. Backup power generator at the station won’t even start, so we can’t report on any of it or hear about what’s happening in other parts of Japan.”

“I don’t think it’s just Japan,” Yamato mutters to himself, folding his arms as he leans back against the wall and watches his father look for food, not that he’ll find anything.

“I’m going back to work in the morning, but first I’m heading to your mother’s place to check on her and Takeru. Coworker gave me a bike.”

“…Don’t you need to sleep?” Yamato asks with a frown despite knowing he’s being a hypocrite. Of course his father is going right back to work. He can’t even be surprised, but this is hardly the time to continue being a workaholic. Here he thought his dad might actually stay home to be with him for once.

“Napped enough at work. Passed out for hours while the tech guys yapped on and on about shit I didn’t understand. You want to come with to see them?”

Yes, Yamato wants to see the rest of his family, more than anything else in the world. No, he doesn’t want the rest of his family to see him, not when he’ll have a meltdown at the slightest provocation. He’s already starting to feel annoyed just by this conversation. “Nah,” he replies as calmly as he can manage, shrugging as he slides his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking. “I’m sure they’re fine.”

His father stuffs a week-old slice of bread into his mouth before slinging his jacket over his shoulder and shoving his lighter back into his pocket. “Won’t know for sure unless we check. I’ll be back after work.” Yamato snorts because yeah, right, he’ll be back – if he cared he wouldn’t be leaving in the first place – but his father must not hear it. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that on my phone that totally works right now, and I’m sure you’d answer even I did,” Yamato snaps, and the sharp sarcasm makes his father turn back to glance at him on his way out the door. “You’re barely ever home, _dad_ , and when you are it’s just to eat or sleep. All you ever do is work, on weekends and holidays and even when the world is fucking breaking apart. And now you’re just taking off again and leaving me here. Sometimes I wonder if you even give a shit about me.”

“Course I do, son,” his father replies, and the ease with which his words come out makes Yamato have to bite his lower lip to keep from losing his temper even worse. He wishes Gabumon were here to calm him down because he sure is doing a terrible job of keeping cool on his own, but he can’t push aside the feeling of needles pricking at his skin as his father lies to his face. “I asked if you wanted to come with to see your mother and Takeru, but you said–”

“I know what I said!” Yamato exclaims. “I don’t want to go!”

“…I think you should.” There’s that concern again. It makes Yamato want to pull his fists from his pockets and slam them back against his bedroom door. “Might be best if your mother looks after you for now–”

“Because you can’t be assed to spare the time to do it yourself,” Yamato finishes for him, and he’s so focused on the anger pounding at his temples that he has a hard time grabbing onto the doorknob behind him. “But don’t worry, I’ll have this place cleaned up and food ready by the time you finally come home again.”

“Yamato!” his father yells, but he’s already slipped back into his room, slamming and locking the door behind him, like a child throwing a pointless temper tantrum. “Yamato, you can’t speak to me like that!” The door shakes against him as his father pounds on it loud enough to wake Taichi up with a confused groan, but Yamato doesn’t budge, continuing to lean back against it even though his headache makes him long for the comfort of his bed. “Yamato, just open the door and come out here and tell me what’s really bothering you.” He doesn’t answer his father, and he certainly doesn’t open the door. He squeezes his eyes shut, biting his lower lip as he frowns and struggles to steady his breath, and when the door falls still Yamato can’t tell whether he’s relieved or not because part of him wants his dad to continue screaming at him. “You never open up to me,” his father says, barely audible through the door, and a few seconds later the front door clicks shut, followed by a haunting silence.

When Yamato opens his eyes he sees Taichi sitting up in his bed, rubbing groggily at his eyes as he mumbles to himself, but Yamato’s thoughts are racing elsewhere, to memories of when his family first broke apart with his parents’ divorce and to all of the other nights he’s spent alone in this apartment. He knows he’s being unreasonable. He knows that his dad cares even if he’s never straightforward about it – hell, that’s where Yamato inherited the exact same tendency to keep his feelings constrained deep inside – but he just wishes his dad would forget about his job and stick around for once. Then again, he doesn’t deserve that. His parents broke up for a reason – they left him for a reason – and he wonders if there will ever be something in his life that actually sticks around. Even Gabumon couldn’t stay.

“You okay, Yamato?” Taichi asks just above a whisper, and he’s not. He can’t even think straight because it feels like there’s fingers twisting around his chest like a snake capturing its prey, but when he looks at Taichi they unfurl, one by one. Taichi is still here for now, but soon enough, he will leave, too, just like everyone else.

Yamato remembers the warmth fluttering in his chest as he first clenched his hand around Taichi’s, how he felt like he could take on anything while they linked arms on the battlefield, and the way all of his worries and fears disappeared when Taichi hugged him close earlier in the night. He needs that again, now more than ever, and before Yamato knows it, he’s kneeling on his bed, fingers tangled into Taichi’s hair to hold him steady as their lips crash together, clumsy and needy and much too brief because before Yamato can even take in the drug that is Taichi’s touch he’s already being pushed away, ending the momentary solace. “I said stop,” Taichi protests, shoving him with a surprising strength and cognition for someone who just woke up, and as Yamato lands back against his bed it somehow hurts more than anything else that’s happened tonight.

“…Sorry,” he murmurs, choking on the simple word, and doesn’t know what else to say, but when Taichi blurts out the exact same thing Yamato stares at him.

“Aw, man,” Taichi groans, bringing his hands to his face, “I fucked up our first kiss!” He spreads his fingers, peeking through one of the gaps at Yamato, and offers a nervous laugh. “‘Cause I do wanna kiss you, you know. Kinda always wanted to, but it’s never been the right time."

Yamato frowns, just one small step away from a glare. “Then why the hell did you push me away?”

“It’s just…” Taichi bites his lip before continuing. “I wanna kiss the _real_ Yamato, not take advantage of a Yamato who’s still confused about everything. I want you to want it for real.”

When did Taichi become so damned reasonable? Then again, that’s why he’s here right now, because Yamato doesn’t have the reason to do anything himself. It makes sense, though. He’d feel like even more of a shit if he took advantage of Taichi’s kindness right now. At least Taichi didn’t object to the kiss because he didn’t want to, because Yamato’s always wanted it, too.

“So, isn’t your family gonna worry about you if you stay here too long?” Yamato asks, resting the back of his hand against his eyelids.

“I already told Hikari I’d be back after making sure you’re okay. She gets it. Mom and dad might worry a bit, but this is important so they’ll get over it.”

“Must be nice.”

Taichi doesn’t say anything, and Yamato regrets his words – that seems to be a common occurrence lately, but apparently he still hasn’t learned to watch his tongue, even when he doesn’t feel like he’s losing his mind.

“Your family loves you, too, man,” Taichi begins as he lies back down on the bed, landing with a thump beside Yamato. “Takeru says it all the time, he loves you the most! Why else would he make me haul my ass all the way over here because he lives too far away to come see you himself? ‘Cause he’s worried and cares about you. And hey, your dad saved our asses back when we were kids and Vamdemon invaded the real world. He looked after us and helped us get up the TV station to get rid of the fog. Even your mom loves you, dude. She misses you like hell and wishes your family could’ve stayed together. And not just your family. Your friends all love you, too, no matter how many times you’ve messed up in the past and might mess up in the future. _I_ love you, and if you ever forget it I’ll just have to punch you in the face again.”

Yamato turns his head to look at Taichi, grinning back at him as they stare into each other’s eyes, and he smiles a bit. “I hated you as a kid,” Yamato says, replacing Taichi’s grin with a grimace.

“Wow, ouch. I wasn’t exactly expecting an _aw, I love you, too, Taichi_ , but I wasn’t expecting the exact opposite, either.”

“You were the worst,” Yamato continues without missing a beat. “The perfect epitome of a fearless leader. Everyone loved you, including Takeru. And I hated it. There were times when I legit wished something would happen to you so I wouldn’t have to put up with it anymore. When I had Metalgarurumon attack you that time, I was seriously trying to get rid of you, but all I did was drive myself away in the end. I was a really fucked up kid.” He smiles at Taichi, who looks more confused than afraid. If they were still kids, they would probably already be in the middle of a fist fight by now, but Taichi doesn’t even interrupt. “Looking back, it wasn’t really hatred. I was just jealous. Really jealous, of how good you are at taking charge and inspiring confidence in everyone and making them all love you and follow you without hesitation. When you disappeared when we were kids, the whole group fell apart. I’m not like you, Taichi. That’s why when you disappeared again, I didn’t know what to do. I’m a real shitty leader, and when it came down to it, I couldn’t come close to replacing you.”

“You shouldn’t think that you have to _replace_ me,” Taichi finally cuts in, rolling onto his side so he can face Yamato in his entirety. “I could never replace you, either. You’re so perceptive, Yamato. Like, you pay such close attention to everyone you care about and know exactly when something’s wrong. I can’t even notice that my toast has caught on fire until the black smoke is already filling up the kitchen and tripping an alarm. I just wish that you’d care about yourself as much as you care about everyone else, ‘cause otherwise you’ll never get over this, Yamato. I can tell you over and over that you didn’t do anything wrong, but until you tell yourself the same thing, you’ll be stuck here lying in this bed beating yourself up over nothing.”

“…I just wish I could’ve done more,” Yamato mumbles, grabbing onto his pillow so he can use it to muffle his face. “Then maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess. We wouldn’t be sitting here in the darkness and never able to see our Digimon again.”

Taichi pulls the pillow up so he can crane his head over and peer into Yamato’s eyes – he sees Taichi’s not letting him hide any longer until this is settled. “There’s no use in wasting your time wondering. That’s all in the past, man, and you don’t know that we’ll never see them again. What we can do now is just live in the present and think about the future.”

Yamato stares at him, their fearless leader who has grown surprisingly wise compared to the reckless boy he was six years ago, and realizes that maybe it wasn’t all jealousy, either, that consumed him as a child. He admires Taichi, and he always has. “Only if you stop trying to give me inspirational speeches. They make me wanna barf.”

“That all? Deal.” Taichi holds his fist out expectantly, and Yamato is a little reluctant to bump his own against it because then he’ll have to commit to letting go. He isn’t sure why the thought of it scares him. He should be glad to free himself from his worries, but somehow he doesn’t want to. Maybe it’s because he thinks he deserves the grief, but when he sees Taichi about to reach over and grab onto his wrist to forcibly complete the fist bump himself, Yamato yanks his hand back with a glare and curls his fingers together, tapping his knuckles against Taichi’s of his own accord.

“Happy now?” Yamato turns away from Taichi, flopping onto his stomach.

“Yeah.” There’s a silence that stretches from a few seconds to a few minutes, and then: “Hey, Yamato.” Yamato peeks over at Taichi, who looks away the moment their eyes meet. “Do you, uh… Do you still hate me now?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Yamato replies with a snort, stretching his hand out along the bed sheets, and after his fingers find Taichi’s he grabs onto them. “…That’s all in the past, too,” he echoes softly, burying his face into his pillow after Taichi flashes him a soft smile.

 

\---

 

“Wonder what time it is,” Taichi muses to himself as he stands at the kitchen counter, skating the edge of a knife along the peel of an apple to whittle it off in the most ragged looking shape Yamato has ever seen. “The sun’s just started to come up so it’s gotta be, what, like five or six in the morning?”

Yamato doesn’t respond. He watches Taichi, arms folded, fingers twitching because he wants to grab the apple away and just peel it himself. Taichi insisted that Yamato chill out and let him make breakfast for them, but he’s not used to standing aside as someone else prepares food for him – in his kitchen, no less. He can’t remember the last time his father actually cooked something instead of eating whatever Yamato prepared for dinner or the take-out he grabbed after finishing his overtime shift. It feels so unnatural that he glances away, at the sunrise casting a faint glow through the living room windows, at his Digivice still discarded on the ground where he flung it two nights ago, at the thin birthday candles fashioned to stand up on the dining table that Taichi lit with one of his dad’s spare lighters. His dad never did throw him a birthday party, even when he was a kid – just gave him a 5000 yen note or two and told him to buy himself something – so there were plenty of candles lying around when they woke up and Taichi declared he would be treated to a _nice candlelit breakfast_.

“Feel better after getting some rest?” Taichi asks, and since the question is directly addressed to him, Yamato can’t answer with silence this time.

“Yeah.”

Taichi pauses, diverting his attention from the apple as he cranes his head towards Yamato’s, examining his face with a scrutinizing eye. “Hmm… alright,” he concludes with a grin, returning to spinning his apple against the knife’s blade. “Seems legit. You’re as bad of a liar as Gabumon is.” Yamato tenses up, and Taichi notices, hands freezing as he glances over again. “…Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Yamato replies, awkwardly shifting his weight in place as he stares up at the ceiling, and Taichi is right. He’s a terrible fucking liar.

“No, I mean I’m sorry that I don’t have any way to comfort you this time,” Taichi clarifies with a sheepish smile, dropping the apple peel into the trash. “I miss them, too. A lot. It’s only been a few days since the reboot, but it feels like years since I last saw Agumon. I’d peel a million apples for him if it just meant I could see him again. I’d peel apples for the rest of my life.” Yamato opens his mouth to interject, but Taichi doesn’t let him. “And you better not say it’s your fault, ‘cause you said you’d stop that.”

Yamato doesn’t say it’s his fault. He wants to, but he doesn’t. He focuses on Taichi slicing the apple up into thin wedges with the skill of an elephant trying to tap dance, and, amazingly enough, the thought fades away as quickly as it popped into his mind. “…Taichi Yagami, professional apple peeler,” Yamato ponders aloud, carefully leaning back against the edge of the counter as he crosses one leg over the other. “How the mighty have fallen so low.”

Taichi grins at Yamato’s smirk, and he’s glad that Taichi looks genuinely happy for once since coming over to visit. He never thought Taichi would ever be so glad to be insulted. “He’d be like, _Taichi, I’m hungry_! _I’m hungry_! And he wouldn’t let me rest until he’s full, which would take a while, ‘cause his stomach is the size of Hokkaido. He’d pass out right after and might not even make it to the bed, so I’d have to drag him over there. And he’d sleep until noon the next day, waking up just to eat again and repeat the cycle.”

“Gabumon’s the opposite. Too polite to ask for food, even if he’s hungry,” Yamato murmurs with a small smile.

“Well, I’ll peel extra apples for him, too.”

“You say it like you’d be there to do it.”

“Where else would I be?” Taichi asks as he finishes cutting apart the last piece of the apple, and Yamato’s smile grows a little wider. “We’ll see them again someday, Yamato,” Taichi murmurs, setting the apple slice onto the plate before he quickly wipes off the knife and tosses it into the dish rack – Yamato makes a mental note to clean it off more thoroughly later. “Dunno how or when, but we will.”

Yamato fidgets in place. “You think so?”

“Would I lie to you?” Taichi winks at him and picks up the plate with a flourish of his free hand. “Anyways, breakfast is served, so if you would please have a seat at the table, kind sir.”

“…Looks delicious,” Yamato says, leaning over to glance at the misshapen apple pieces, and his stomach clenches for a different reason than it’s become accustomed to during the past few days.

Taichi narrows his eyes. “Dude, I spent like fifteen minutes cutting this up for you and almost chopped my finger off like three times. You haven’t eaten anything since two days ago, and there’s still no electricity, so I know it sucks, but this is the best I could do. Yamato Ishida, if you don’t eat these apple slices I will personally take them and shove them into your mou–”

“Chill. I’m being serious,” Yamato interrupts, and he reaches out to grab one of the slices and bite into it with a sharp crunch. He never realized how hungry he was until now, and the mangled, jagged apple chunk that Taichi carved out with care tastes more delicious than anything he’s ever eaten in his life. A little sour, but that’s alright. “Glad that even you couldn’t fuck up something as simple as the famed _chopped apple_ recipe.”

“Well, I cater, you know,” Taichi jokes, stepping back with the plate to evade Yamato’s hand, reaching for a second slice. “Parties and weddings and whatever other big shindigs you can think of, but only for celebrities and, like, the president. I can make an exception for you, though, and with a nice discount, too. How’s free sound?”

“I’ll take it,” Yamato replies without a second thought, following Taichi to the dimly lit dining table where the candles have barely burned through a fourth of their wax. They aren’t really needed anymore since the sun has risen beyond the horizon, but Yamato leaves them anyways, flickering in celebration of when he finally began to forgive himself. “So when can you start?”

Taichi sets the plate on the center of the table as Yamato slides into his seat, and when his hand freezes there with a momentary silence Yamato looks up at him. “I should actually head back home later today to check on Hikari and my parents,” he says, and Yamato gnaws at an apple slice, trying to swallow his disappointment along with it. He knows Taichi has already spent too much time here, but he still can’t help but to wish the solace could last forever. “Hey, you wanna come with?” Taichi suggests, flopping onto the chair opposite from him. “Hikari would be happy to see you, and my mom would dote on you like one of her own. You’ll probably get to hear embarrassing baby stories about me, too, and I’ll put up with it ‘cause I know you could use the laugh. Even if you won’t let me live it down for the rest of my life.”

Yamato considers it, both because hearing hilarious baby stories about Taichi sounds tempting and because he could use the company, but ultimately shakes his head. “It’s cool. My dad’ll freak out if I’m not here when he comes back.”

“…Yeah, he would,” Taichi agrees, raising an eyebrow. “You know why?”

“Because no one else would be around to make him dinner,” Yamato replies with a roll of his eyes.

“No, Yamato! ‘Cause he–”

“Loves me,” Yamato cuts in and crunches the remainder of his apple slice between his teeth to rid himself of the sugary residue his words have left in his mouth. Taichi nods with a smile. “…So are _you_ doing okay?” Yamato asks softly, and Taichi’s smile wavers, flickering into a frown for a moment before returning. “I heard you talking to Hikari and Takeru before we split up the other night. Nishijima–”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Taichi interjects. “You have enough to handle yourself for now.”

Yamato wants to complain that Taichi can’t tell him what to do and he _will_ worry whether he likes it or not, but the realization silences him – this is exactly what Taichi was talking about before. It’s why Taichi first showed up at his door, and why Taichi insisted he wouldn’t leave. This is what you do with the people that you love – you care about them so much that you worry about them – but knowing Taichi, he doesn’t want to talk about it right now because he’s too concerned about Yamato. If that isn’t a crowning example of hypocrisy, Yamato doesn’t know what is, but he’s just as guilty. Yet Yamato knows from experience that when Taichi avoids a topic, there’s no getting any conversation about it out of him until he’s ready, so he lets it go, but only for now.

They chat over breakfast, Taichi reminiscing about their adventures while Yamato chimes in every now and then to correct him when he gives himself a little _too_ much credit. Somehow it’s so easy to talk to Taichi, only rivaled by how comfortable he is around Takeru, and before he knows it hours have already passed and he’s leaning against the frame of his apartment’s front door, seeing Taichi out.

“You gonna be alright?” Taichi asks, and when Yamato folds his arms with a single nod he squints. “I don’t know if I can trust that answer. You’re trying to do one of your cool poses."

“I’ll be fine,” Yamato says, and he knows it’ll be hard for Taichi to believe him when he doesn’t really believe himself.

“…Tell you what,” Taichi begins, holding his hands out, and when Yamato doesn’t move he pulls at Yamato’s arms until he unfurls them. “I’ll stop by again the day after tomorrow, so take care of yourself ‘til then, okay?”

“M’kay,” Yamato mumbles, and when Taichi takes his hands he tries to memorize the feeling of their fingers intertwined.

“Swear it. On your _harmonica_ , and may it spontaneously combust if you don’t eat more food and get rest tonight.”

“Wow, this is serious.” Taichi glares at him, and Yamato sighs. “Fine, I promise.”

“Good.” Taichi squeezes his hands tightly. Yamato doesn’t want to have to let go. “I’ll be back to visit again soon, and this time try to open the door before my fist starts to hurt from banging on it.”

“Even if I don’t, you’ll keep banging on it anyways. Probably start using your hard head instead after your hand starts to bleed.”

“Damn straight!” When Taichi lets go of him, Yamato immediately slides his hands into his pockets, trying to preserve the lingering warmth as long as possible, but what he doesn’t expect is for Taichi to hug him with enough vigor to nearly knock him over. “It’ll be alright,” Taichi repeats for what feels like the tenth time in the past day, and Yamato has really started to believe it. “Don’t forget that, Yamato. Everything’ll work out in the end.”

“Get the hell out of here before this turns into a sappy speech,” Yamato says, squirming around while trapped in Taichi’s embrace, and after Taichi pats his back a few times he steps away, looking over Yamato one more time. He still looks worried – of course he does – but satisfied enough with what he sees to offer a smile, and Yamato flashes one right back. It’s hard to believe that this is the same knucklehead he fought with so many times as a kid, but after all this time, overcoming so many obstacles together, he wouldn’t have had it any other way. “…Thanks, Taichi,” Yamato finally manages to whisper, and with the few, simple words it feels like a chain coiled around his chest has crumpled to the floor.

Taichi grins, and Yamato could stare at it for the rest of his life. “Anytime.”

 

\---

 

After Taichi leaves, Yamato gathers himself in silence. He picks his Digivice off of the ground and wonders what the hell it’s made out of because somehow the screen isn’t cracked after all the abuse he’s put it through. His fingers brush against the blue buttons, circling their ridges, and they are, of course, still unresponsive. He wipes the smudges off its screen with the edge of his shirt and slides it back into his pocket, content with its familiar weight lingering against his leg, and returns to his room. On his way towards his bed he grabs his harmonica off of his desk, lifting it to his lips as he flops down onto his still unmade blanket – Taichi dragged him out of here too quickly for him to fix it after they woke up. He thinks he might go nuts if he had to deal with that every morning, but going insane about messy sheets is a small price to pay to enjoy Taichi’s company.

As Yamato plays his harmonica, it feels like he’s exhaling his worries with each note he breathes out. He’s never found a better way to de-stress than by playing music, and it’s a good thing his favorite instrument doesn’t require anything electrical like an amp. He croons out the same tune as always, and it takes him back to the Digital World – to the hopelessness as they all wondered whether they would ever make it back home, to his first fistfight with Taichi that left his ego hurting more than his face, and to the times he learned firsthand what friendship really was as Gabumon, ever loyal, never left his side. He thinks of their triumphs over their enemies and fears and of all the lows from which he had to be dragged free, and he wishes that Gabumon could remember it all, too.

He wonders what Gabumon is up to right now in the Digital World – is he still a Punimon after the second reboot, or has he Digivolved into a Tsunomon already? Knowing Agumon, Botamon is definitely a Koromon by now, but he can’t be sure about the others. Yamato hopes that their Digimon are still together, though. He knows he could have used his own friends’ company when he was struggling post-reboot, so thank goodness Takeru had Taichi come over, and that Taichi was stubborn enough to stay until Yamato finally let him in. Somehow everyone else knows him better than he knows himself, but that just goes to show how close they are, how much they care about him, and how irreplaceable they’ve become. He feels dumb for forgetting about it before.

Yamato is so caught up in his harmonica that he doesn’t even realize he has company until the door to his room cracks open, and he nearly throws it in fright at the figure entering if not for the familiar voice he’s greeted with. “Hey, Yamato,” Takeru says with a small wave, and he drops his harmonica, eyes widening as he stares at his brother, surveying his room in the faint light. “No Taichi? Did you chase him out already? I know he came because there’s a bruise on your cheek.”

“Takeru?” Yamato says dumbly. “Why’re you here?”

“Oh, dad stopped by in the morning to see how mom and I were doing, and he brought us back here instead of heading to work. He said there are some things more important than locking himself up at the TV station for another night.” Yamato doesn’t say anything, more shocked now that his father is back than that Takeru and his mother are over to visit their apartment, and Takeru gestures for him to follow. “Come on, mom wants to see you. We’ve both been super worried.”

After Yamato follows Takeru out of his room he finds his parents sitting on the couch, a sizable distance between them as they chat, all hushed whispers and brief glances that never meet. He doesn’t really want to go over there. The last time he saw his dad he lashed out and they fought, and the last time he saw his mom was years ago when he escorted a twelve-year-old Takeru back home after a Christmas party. He can’t recall the last conversation he had with his mother that wasn’t just full of uncomfortable silence on his end. He can’t recall the last instance in which he felt any genuine affection from her. Yet the moment she glances over her shoulder and sees him approaching, she’s already on her feet, rushing over to pull him into a hug.

“Yamato!” she exclaims, and he can’t believe that it sounds like she’s crying. He hasn’t seen his mother cry since the divorce, but maybe that’s because he’s barely seen her since then. “Yamato, I’m so glad you’re okay…” He stiffens in her hug – it feels so foreign unlike Taichi’s from earlier – but forces himself to lift his own arms, awkwardly wrapping them around her back. “When your father stopped by, he insisted that we come to see you, and I’m glad that we did. Hearing Takeru sound so worried about you made me start to worry, too, but to see that you’re alright is a relief.”

Yamato isn’t sure how to respond. He glances over at his father, who offers as much help as expected – which is to say, none, as he continues staring out the window in silence and puffs at his cigarette – but at least Takeru speaks up and saves him. “Mom, I think you’re suffocating him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologizes, and when she steps back, Yamato is struck with a pang of guilt at the sight of the tears in her eyes. All this time, he’s blamed her for the divorce, but she really does still care, about him and the family, considering she came all the way to see him. As she collects herself, Yamato swallows the lump in his throat and struggles to find something appropriate to say, but as usual, he’s stumped when it comes to conversing with his mother.

“…How’d you guys get all the way over here?” he finally asks and kicks himself mentally for not saying something normal like _hi, mom_ or _I missed you, too_.

“Your father brought us,” his mother answers, but it doesn’t really answer anything.

“Like, what, a three-tiered piggy back ride?” he jokes with a snort, and like usual his mother doesn’t share his sense of humor judging by the mixture of confusion and mild offense on her face.

“Get this,” Takeru cuts in with a grin that defuses the growing tension in the room. “Dad shows up at our place out of breath after pedaling his bike all the way across the city, and before even giving himself a chance to rest, he grabs an old wagon from the closet that mom would pull me around in as a kid and tells us to get in and come to see you. He holds onto the handle the whole time as he pulls us along and bikes all the way back here to you, because he knows you wanted to see us.”

Yamato’s first instinct is to protest, but he doesn’t. He looks at his father, still staring out the window and acting like he didn’t hear any of the story that Takeru just recounted, and Yamato can’t believe that he went through such lengths for his bratty, unreasonable son who lost his temper so badly the last time they spoke. Taichi was right, again, but he can’t even say it bothers him this time. He’s too busy feeling stupid for ever thinking that his parents abandoned him. “Wow,” is all he manages to murmur, still dumbstruck, and his father finally glances over his shoulder, surprising Yamato again with the sight of the faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of his lip.

His mother reaches out to touch his face while he’s distracted by his thoughts, and Yamato immediately recoils at the unexpected contact. “…Is this a bruise? Yamato, what happened? Does it hurt?”

“Uh…” Yamato says blankly, lifting a hand to brush his fingertips at the sore spot where Taichi punched him yesterday, and no, it doesn’t hurt. In fact, it was what ultimately took the pain _away_ , but he doesn’t know how to explain to his mother that he’s thankful his best friend sucker punched his face hard enough to leave a mark.

“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” Takeru chimes in. “I bet it was for his own good."

His mother plants her hands on her hips, her confused stare morphing into acceptance as it drifts away from Yamato’s injury and slowly surveys the room. “…This place is a mess,” she finally declares even though Yamato just cleaned the whole apartment last week before they headed to the Digital World following the first reboot. She wanders off towards the kitchen, and his father immediately springs off the couch, following after her with an uncharacteristic stumble.

“Natsuko! Don’t touch my cigarettes.”

“Are you still smoking those things? Throw them away.”

“No, I need them!”

Yamato walks over to the couch, where Takeru has situated himself, and flops down beside him as their parents argue in the background. It’s strangely nostalgic, hearing them fight about the smallest things. “You doing okay?” he asks Takeru, wondering how can look so cheerful when the last thing he can remember about his brother is how heartbroken he looked when he lost Patamon yet again mere days ago.

“I should be asking _you_ that, Yamato. But I’m alright. The first few nights were hard. Every time I closed my eyes I dreamt of Patamon disappearing, but mom was there, and she took good care of me like she always does.” Takeru takes off his hat – today it’s a knitted beanie that looks homemade, maybe from one of those girls he’s got wrapped around his finger – and smiles at him. “So… Taichi’s not still here hiding somewhere, right?”

“No,” Yamato replies with a glare, but if his family arrived in the morning it would have been a different story. “What’s _that_ look for?"

“Nothing,” Takeru hums, but it’s definitely something. “Just glad you’re feeling better.” Yamato squints at him, and he quickly changes the subject before the interrogation can continue. “Dad said that when he stopped by the TV station, they told him some important parts of the city might have power again in a few weeks, like the governmental buildings and hospitals and places like that. Authorities are trying to get electricity back first and then communication like our phones and the internet. At this rate it looks like at least some stuff might be back to normal within a couple of months.”

“…That’s a long time,” Yamato mutters, furling his eyebrows.

“Is it, though?” Takeru stares outside wistfully as his hands come to rest on his lap, as if searching for Patamon, but he isn’t there, leaving Takeru’s fingers gripping his knees. “I think the passage of time changes depending on the company you keep.” Takeru is right. Yamato hears his father trying to fish his cigarettes out of the trash can in the dark as his mother throws all the rotting food out of their non-functional refrigerator. To anyone else, it must sound mundane or maybe even bothersome, but to him, it makes the lonely apartment come to life and feel like home.

He’d never admit it, but he’s glad that they’re here.

 

\---

 

Yamato’s mother and Takeru stay over for the night. Even Yamato’s dad doesn’t leave despite the unspoken fact that he surely told his coworkers he would return to the TV station, and for these hours they spend together, it feels like they’re a family again. His mom puts together the best dinner she can without being able to utilize simple luxuries they’ve always taken for granted like the stove, and his father actually goes over and _helps_ her cook, like he’s trying to give off a good impression. His father is such an amateur in the kitchen that after he slips an apron over his head he doesn’t even remember to finish tying it around his waist, and as the cloth flops around uselessly while he runs to and from the pantry – which he had trouble locating to begin with – Yamato can’t help but to smile.

The radio, of course, doesn’t work, let alone the television or the computer, so Yamato grabs his acoustic guitar to pass the time, strumming soft chords as he sits beside Takeru on the couch. “Not gonna sing?” Takeru asks, tapping his fingers against his knees to the beat, and Yamato shakes his head because for some reason the thought of his mother hearing him sing makes him horribly embarrassed.

Throughout dinner and for the rest of the night, Yamato is mostly silent, listening to Takeru crack jokes to defuse whatever arguments may stem from their parents’ banter, and by the time it’s late enough to sleep, he’s amazed to see that his parents are actually kind of getting along. His father insists his mother take his bed while he sleeps on the couch, and Yamato lets Takeru join him in his despite the teasing remarks about how they haven’t done this since they were kids. What Takeru _doesn’t_ know is that Taichi already beat him to it last night, and Yamato doesn’t bring it up because he doesn’t _need_ to know.

As he promised, Taichi really does stop by again a few days later. Yamato’s dad has long gone back to work by then after sleeping the previous day away because he was so exhausted, and when Yamato wakes that morning Takeru is already missing from his bed. He finds Takeru sitting in the living room, eyes widening when he recognizes the messy head of brown hair visible above the back of the couch, and regrets not putting more clothes on before exiting his bedroom. Takeru must have heard him enter and glances over his shoulder. “Hey, Yamat- oh. You, uh… probably should’ve put on more than just your boxers.”

Well, it’s too late for that now. “You’re here… early,” Yamato says, folding his arms across his bare chest as Taichi looks back at him.

“Hey, Yamato,” Taichi greets nonchalantly, and Yamato guesses he’s been seen in much worse, both in regards to his attire and his state of mind. “How’re you doing?”

It’s not banal small talk. Taichi _actually_ wants to know how he’s doing, so Yamato doesn’t evade the question. “Better.”

“He slept like a log the past two nights,” Takeru chimes in, and Yamato doesn’t like how the two of them smile at him simultaneously, like they’ve been practicing a comedy duo routine. He wouldn’t put it past them. “Even though I’m a notorious serial sleep-hugger. Everyone always gives me the only available bed at sleepovers and volunteers to take the floor for a reason. I don’t know how I haven’t smothered Yamato awake yet with my hugs.”

Taichi leans closer to Takeru and cups a hand to his mouth as he declares in the loudest whisper Yamato has ever heard: “It’s ‘cause he secretly likes affection.”

“Fuck you,” Yamato snaps on cue with a pout, and Taichi turns to Takeru.

“Wow, he _is_ feeling better.”

“Yeah. He’s even kind of getting along with mom now. They’re still a little awkward, though. It’s cute.”

Yamato frowns. “Can you stop talking like I’m _not_ standing right here and listening to every word you say?”

Takeru says something to Taichi that Yamato can’t hear, and that’s not what Yamato meant with his previous sentence. Before he can protest, Takeru is already standing up and wandering off, arms folded behind his head. “You two have fun,” he calls out, and Yamato shoots Taichi a questioning stare because Takeru’s back won’t provide any answers.

“Oh, right.” Taichi climbs up onto the couch and stands on the center cushion, and before Yamato can yell at him to get off because he’s getting it dirty, Taichi points at him with a grin. “Put some clothes on and grab some snacks and let’s go! It’s time for a road trip.”

“…What?”

“A road trip. C’mon, you’ve been cooped up in this apartment for days. You need some fresh air! I already told Takeru about it, and he said he’d explain to your mom. So let’s go. Don’t worry, I’ll have you back home for dinner.”

Yamato raises an eyebrow cautiously. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a secret,” Taichi answers, and Yamato sighs because of course it is. “Brought my bike and some bottles of water. And before we go, make sure you put on some _real_ shoes, not any of those fancy boots you hate getting dirty.”

Soon Yamato is pedaling Taichi’s bicycle down the street in a pair of completely reasonable high tops as Taichi stands on the foot pegs attached to its rear tire and grips his shoulders. Getting fresh air outside is nice in theory, sure, but not like this. Taichi didn’t tell Yamato that _he’d_ be the one providing the manpower for the first stretch of their mysterious road trip, and after lazing around his apartment for so long doing nothing, he has to get used to the effort required to cart two people around on a single bike. Taichi gives him directions the entire time – granted, the guidance always comes at the last possible second, leaving him swerving around like a maniac – but the route is strangely familiar, like he’s traveled it before. Every now and then Taichi offers him something to eat or drink, smacking his cheek with a granola bar or accidentally dumping water onto the front of his shirt, and Yamato yells at him to stop worrying and just hold on tight.

“…So, are you doing okay, too?” Yamato asks later on as he struggles to propel them up a steep incline. His calves are burning and his heart pounds, but somehow it feels good.

“Yeah, this is really relaxing. I should make you take me down the scenic route.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Taichi doesn’t answer right away, and that’s how it’s evident that he’s bothered. Yamato figures maybe he still doesn’t want to talk about Nishijima, but Taichi speaks up soon after. “I’d be lying if I said I am. But the dead don’t come back to life, and he did what he had to. I’m grateful he saved my life, but I can’t help but to still feel a little guilty. I probably will be forever, but if I don’t actively think about it, I’m fine.”

Yamato knows how that feels, but he still doesn’t like the answer. “Taichi, you told me that _I_ shouldn’t feel guilty about everything I’ve been dealing with. Shouldn’t you do the same yourself?” he points out, and Taichi sighs.

“It’s easier said than done, I know. It’ll take time for the both of us, but we’ll get through it. We’ve gotten through worse.”

“You’d better not disappear again on me in the middle of this one,” Yamato says, intending for it to be a joke, but he’s also dead serious.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Now how about getting off so I can take us there the rest of the way?”

After they swap positions, Yamato kind of wishes he was still the one pedaling because Taichi made hanging on look much easier than it actually is. Maybe it’s because Taichi is such an enthusiastic and reckless cyclist, speeding off like he plans to get Yamato back home before _lunch_ instead of dinner, and Yamato has to cling onto him to keep from tumbling off. He glances around at their surroundings in an attempt to calm his nerves – at the kids who are actually running around _outside_ because they can’t lock themselves in their rooms all day playing video games anymore, at their parents keeping a watchful eye over them, and at other people who wanted fresh air taking a walk around the streets. There are authorities making their rounds throughout the city to keep the populace updated on the current situation whether seeking solace at the temporary shelters or at home, and some stores have set up stalls on street corners and are actually giving away food to people who need it. It looks like, after the initial panic, everything isn’t quite as bad as Yamato had feared earlier. It’s a relief to see.

“Any guesses as to where we’re headed?” Taichi calls out, and Yamato wonders how he’s not out of breath.

“Your place so I can tag-team embarrassing you with Hikari for a change.”

“Come on, man, you know my place is in the other direction.”

“My mom’s place so I can mess with Takeru’s stuff before he goes home.”

“Wow, what did he do to you?”

“He let some idiot into my apartment this morning.”

“You had more company other than me today?” Taichi glances back to flash him a grin, and Yamato is glad there are no obstacles directly in front of them to crash into. “I’m jealous. Were they anywhere near as good looking as me?”

“Go look in a mirror and find out,” Yamato replies, pushing Taichi’s cheek with one hand until he’s facing forward again, and when Taichi laughs, it’s contagious and he can’t help but to do the same. He can’t remember the last time he did. It’s liberating, like he’s finally discarded the last worry troubling him as the laughter bubbles in his chest, and the sound mixes with Taichi’s into a duet ringing through the sky, more satisfying than any song he’s performed onstage.

Their destination comes into view soon, and the sight of the familiar road leading up to the _Summer Camp_ sign from his youth fills Yamato with both excitement and dread. As Taichi pedals through the gate that leads to where everything began, the memories wash over him like a flooding tide – his first meeting with Tsunomon, Garurumon saving him from Seadramon, feeling hopeless when he was separated from Takeru. All of his stupid fights with Taichi. All the times he and Taichi made up. Saving both worlds over and over with help from all his friends, watching his home fall to ruin before him, and losing Gabumon again. Everything started here on that snowy August day, and Yamato doesn’t know if he could stomach the painful nostalgia if Taichi wasn’t here with him.

As Taichi locks his bike to a pole Yamato glances around the campsite, completely empty other than them – unsurprising, because no one in their right mind would stop by for a vacation when, without electricity, their homes are close enough to campsites as is. The place hasn’t changed at all – same old cabin where they sought temporary shelter when the area was buffeted by the sudden snowstorm, same old campfire piled on with logs that Jou never did manage to light by himself during any of their nights spent here, and the same old Taichi running straight for his favorite tree on the edge of the forest.

“Dude, old faithful is still here!” Taichi exclaims, swinging himself up onto the first branch. “I’m glad it didn’t get chopped down or struck by a bolt of lightning. I remember I was taking a nap on this branch right here when the snow first started.”

“Seeing you up there made Takeru wanna try climbing up, too,” Yamato adds in reminisce as Taichi shakes the branch beneath him with his weight – it rustles a little before quickly stabilizing, and he looks satisfied. “I had to stop him from trying, because he would definitely hurt himself.”

“Man, what a wet blanket. You gotta give a poor kid a chance to live, mom!”

“No way. He was seven years old. A kid shouldn’t have to spend summer camp lying in a hospital bed.”

“Just kidding.” Taichi grins, holding his hand out to Yamato, whose fingers clench instinctively inside of his pockets. “No excuses for you, though, Yamato. Come on, get up here.”

“So you can push me off? Fat chance. A person only drags someone miles from civilization for elaborate murder schemes, and I’ve got my eye on you, Yagami.” Taichi laughs, extending his fingers a bit further, and Yamato reaches out to take them, gripping Taichi’s hand tightly as he makes his way onto the branch with the grace of a hockey player trying to perform ballet. Taichi doesn’t seem to mind how long it takes for Yamato finally situate himself beside him, and as Yamato sits there wondering how the hell he’s already out of breath, Taichi pulls out his Digivice and stares down at it wistfully.

“Remember when these things crashed down onto the earth like asteroids? If we were standing just a little bit further ahead, they might have smacked into us and knocked us right out.”

Yamato reaches back into his pocket, removing his own Digivice from its confines, and squeezes his fingers around it, hating how cold it feels in his grip. “Yours isn’t working either, huh.”

It’s not a question because Yamato already knows the answer. Taichi also already has to know but pushes the buttons anyways, and the blank screen doesn’t change at all. “Nope,” he replies with a bitter smile, and Yamato doesn’t know why the response still has the capability to make him feel disappointed.

“…Gabumon told me,” Yamato begins, but it’s hard to get the words out, “that he had waited forever in the Digital World just to meet me. And now he’ll be waiting forever again. Except this time, I’ll never make it there to see him. He was always here when I needed him, and now I can’t even be there for him.”

Taichi doesn’t say anything at first. Yamato can see the same longing in Taichi’s eyes to see his own partner again, but even though it’s just an encouraging front, he continues to smile as he slings an arm around Yamato’s shoulders. “It’ll be alright, Yamato. When we first came here as kids, did you expect summer camp to turn into crazy stuff like getting sucked into another world and meeting all of the Digimon? ‘Course not. You can’t expect to know what life’s gonna throw at you. If there’s one thing we’ve all learned during our adventures together, it’s that.”

After Yamato slides his Digivice back into his pocket, he stares off into the sky, wondering if Gabumon is on the other side wherever the Digital World is, staring back towards him. Taichi pulls him closer, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and Yamato turns to him with a smile. “You saved me, you know. Twice.”

“ _Way_ more than twice, Yamato. You could be a really stubborn kid.”

“I mean recently, you knucklehead. From falling into that crevasse in the Digital World, and from myself."

“Well, that’s what you do for someone you care about,” Taichi explains like it’s the most obvious thing in the world before he closes his eyes and begins to lean in. Yamato doesn’t know what he did to deserve him.

 

\---

 

After half a year, power generators are able to provide electricity during the daytime hours for the main island of Japan, and landline telephones work throughout major cities but only for domestic calls. Throughout the months Yamato has borrowed his father’s bicycle to go check on the others, but whenever he talks to one of his friends he feels like he’s the one being checked up on instead. They come to visit him, too, whether it’s Mimi bringing over bags of candy and her uplifting smile, or Jou stopping by with some cleaning supplies to help him tidy up his apartment, or Taichi showing up with… himself. Yamato is always glad to see any of them, especially since Takeru and his mother have long since returned home, and his dad is back to working normal shifts, and only normal shifts – no more late hours spent slaving away at overtime.

Yamato sits out on his apartment’s balcony, strumming at his guitar as he enjoys the afternoon sun. It’s a new song he’s working on – he hasn’t written anything new since Knife of Day first got together in the beginning of high school – and he’s excited to finish it and show it to Takeru first before playing it for its intended audience. He plucks out a few chords before pulling his pencil from between his teeth and scribbling the tabs down onto his notepad, but while he’s in the middle of filling in the final note, a vibration from his pocket makes him jump. It can’t be his cell phone – that’s sitting on his desk in his bedroom since it still doesn’t have service. It can only be one thing, and he nearly drops his guitar while reaching for it.

He pulls out his Digivice.

It beeps in his hand.


End file.
